Demon Slayer: Guardian of the Forest

As Shinichi watched Rokuro's despicable life come to a final close in his mind's eye, darkness consumed his vision. The overwhelming toll of his battle left his body feeble and unresponsive.

Thud!

With a soft, hollow sound, Shinichi collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

The battlefield, drenched in blood and littered with shattered remnants of life and death, was now deathly silent. The sole figure left standing was Mori, the elderly swordsman. Supporting himself with his verdant, bloodstained Nichirin blade, he staggered towards the fallen Shinichi.

Upon seeing the faint glint of fangs peeking from Shinichi's lips, Mori's gaze turned contemplative and unreadable.

At that moment, a black-feathered Kasugai crow landed softly on the ground beside the lifeless form of Junbo. It tilted its head, its beady eyes searching, and let out a mournful caw. Tears glistened in the crow's eyes as it observed the still body of its companion and lifelong partner.

"He was a courageous boy. Without him, we would have never defeated that Lower Rank demon," Mori murmured as he approached Junbo's body, his tone solemn. "Faithful messenger, could you carry a message for this old man? One for the current master of the Demon Slayer Corps, along with a humble request?"

As the moon dipped beneath the horizon, the faint glow of dawn began to illuminate the world. Morning had come.

"Caw! Caw! Lower Rank Four has been slain! Lower Rank Four has been slain!"

A large Kasugai crow flapped its wings, shouting its message as it soared into a grand estate surrounded by lush gardens.

Inside, a black-haired boy sat kneeling on a tatami mat, his delicate frame bent over a book. Hearing the crow's cry, he set the book aside and rose to his feet. He stepped outside and held out an arm, allowing the crow to land.

"Lower Rank Four?" The boy's gentle smile brightened. "That's wonderful news. Slaying a Twelve Kizuki demon will surely inspire hope in everyone."

Behind him, a sweet and melodic voice spoke, "Master, the Water Pillar awaits your audience."

Turning, the boy—whose striking amethyst eyes shimmered with warmth—faced the young woman. Her beauty was as radiant as spring, and her expression was serene. She was his wife, Amane.

"Amane, there's no need to be so formal with me," he said softly. "And just now, I received word of a great victory: one of the Twelve Kizuki has been defeated."

"Is that so? What joyous news," Amane replied with a smile, though her expression soon turned serious as the boy added, "But… several brave swordsmen gave their lives for this victory.

"And something else—something unexpected has come to light. The lost Breath of the Forest has resurfaced… along with a strange and unprecedented phenomenon."

"Breath of the Forest?" Amane tilted her head, puzzled. Clearly, she had never heard of such a technique.

Snap! A dry branch cracked underfoot in the dense forest of Shirai Mountain.

A figure cloaked in fiery orange and red moved like a streak of light through the trees, swift as a raging inferno. The trailing flames of their haori danced like a living blaze as the sun steadily rose over the horizon.

This was Kyojuro Rengoku, the current Flame Pillar. Though steadfast in demeanor, worry flickered in his heart.

Upon receiving the Kasugai crow's urgent message, he had dashed toward Shirai Mountain without rest. The Flame Pillar knew all too well the strength of the Twelve Kizuki, especially a Lower Rank demon. While he had faith in Junbo and the others, they were young and of lower ranks, making it near impossible for them to triumph against such a formidable foe.

Despite using Flame Breathing repeatedly to accelerate his journey, the break of dawn had arrived by the time Kyojuro reached the mountain.

As he stepped into the mountain's shadowy depths, the metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air.

Following the scent, Kyojuro gripped the hilt of his Nichirin blade and vanished from sight, a flash of orange light cutting through the forest.

"Cough, cough… This old body… it's failing me," Mori murmured, his voice trembling as he struggled to his feet. "Even with the Breath of the Forest, I no longer have the strength to face another Twelve Kizuki. But… at least I've found someone worthy to inherit this technique."

His tired eyes landed on Shinichi, still lying unconscious nearby.

"Was this fate, ancestors? Or perhaps… divine providence?" Mori whispered.

But his musings were abruptly interrupted by a low, guttural growl. The elder spun around, gripping his blade tightly. From the shadows of the undergrowth, a monstrous figure emerged, its glowing eyes filled with hunger and violence.

This was another demon—a lesser one—that had been lurking in Shirai Mountain. Before Rokuro's arrival, it had been the source of the countless disappearances among the mountain's hunters and woodcutters. But when Rokuro claimed dominance, the demon had been forced into hiding.

Now, with Rokuro's overwhelming presence gone and the scent of blood permeating the air, the demon could no longer suppress its insatiable hunger.

Snarling, it lunged toward Mori like a wild beast, its claws gleaming in the faint light.

Though weak and battered, Mori's resolve remained unbroken. He steadied his breathing, drawing upon the remnants of his strength. The familiar rhythm of the Breath of the Forest coursed through him as he raised his blade.

But before Mori could unleash a strike, an orange blur streaked past him, faster than the eye could follow.

"Flame Breathing: Second Form—Rising Scorching Sun!"

A fiery Nichirin blade arced through the air, its trajectory impossibly precise. In an instant, the demon's head was severed cleanly from its body, leaving no time for resistance.

Thud!

The demon disintegrated into ash before its lifeless body hit the ground.

Sheathing his blade with practiced ease, Kyojuro Rengoku turned toward the elder swordsman. His brilliant red-and-orange haori seemed to glow in the morning light.

"Elder! Where is the Lower Rank demon?" Kyojuro's powerful voice carried authority, but his gaze held genuine concern.

Mori stared at the young man before him—the proud stance, the flowing haori patterned with streaks of fire, the resolute expression framed by golden-red hair. Kyojuro's intense orange eyes were wide with anticipation, reminding Mori of a vigilant owl.

"You… you're a Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps?"

"Yes! I am Kyojuro Rengoku, the Flame Pillar!"

A Kasugai crow with a crimson-tipped feather fluttered down onto Kyojuro's outstretched arm, squawking feverishly. Its beak was nearly foaming from exertion, but it soon delivered its message.

As Kyojuro listened, the story of the battle unfolded before him.

"Elder, so the Lower Rank demon has already been slain?" Kyojuro's eyes sparkled with admiration. "Truly extraordinary!"